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Rova 1, 4736

The forsaken lich Adivion Adrissant and his sinister plot to resurrect the spirit of The Whispering Tyrant Tar-Baphon, lay in ruins at the hands of Ramirez Saul, Haza of Sarenrae, and Torquemada of Iomedae. The trio stood triumphant on the unhallowed peak of Gallowspire, and as the swirling necromantic storm that had raged around the tower since they arrived began to break apart, and the undead hordes howled their ineffectual rage and fled before the coming light of the sun, they knew that their efforts had saved the world from one of its greatest threats. Whether or not the world ever knew of their exploits, in their hearts they knew what they had accomplished, and what price they had to pay to defeat the evil that was the Whispering Way.

More than a quarter century has passed since that day of victory in the Hollow Mountains above Virlych.

Torquemada, once a traveling Inquisitor for the Inheritor, was now the Grand Inquisitor of Iomedae and Master of the Order of Ryszard at the Abbey of St. Lymirin in Caliphas.

At his side, Ramirez Saul worked as Castellan of the Abbey – training the inquisitors in the ways of combat, managing the abbey grounds, and guarding the faithful who filled the halls under the watchful eye of his brother, Ramirez, who now stood immortalized in bronze, watching over the Abbey’s grand hall.

Haza the Ever-Vigilant Eye of Sarenrae took back to wandering the lands of Golarion, although his frequent stops in Caliphas suggested that he had adopted the lands of Ustalev as his home.

The three adventurers had families of their own now, and responsibilities commensurate with their fame, fortune, and successes. They were older and wiser, and if they were a bit slower in their footwork or strength with a blade, there were few who could tell.

Fall had come to Golarion once more, and the start of Rova heralded the autumn season’s beginning. The trees were just starting to change color, the nights had a touch of winter’s chill, and the day was growing short. Coming off a bountiful harvest season, it was a night of celebration for the Inquisitorial academy. Master Torquemada was hosting the return of his long-time friend, Haza, who had just returned from a year-long pilgrimage to his homeland of Osirion.

The newer students had heard tales of these celebrations, but were they true, or embellishments by those higher in the Order?

Tonight, they would know, as the bells were ringing, announcing the arrival of guests to the Abbey…

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